Il Canto della Pioggia
by Fammi Capire
Summary: Time can lose memories, but the song of love will stay forever strong and will never die. Will only be one, short, sweet, and too the point chapter.


_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated trademarks belong to the illustrious J.K. Rowling._

_A/N: This story is written to the tune of the beautiful song that Luciano Pavarotti sang entitled "Il Canto." I recommend listening to it either before or after reading this. As with all my writing, criticism is always appreciated and welcomed (so are edits and mistake notifications). Thank you for reading!_

_**o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o**_

**Il Canto della Pioggia**

Hermione Granger stood in the doorway of the little vacation cottage her parents had owned. She looked out over the expansive rolling fields of Italian country that surrounded the property. It was all she had now; all she had left of them and of her old life.

They had died, not as a part of the horrendous war that had claimed the lives of so many of her friends, acquaintances, and even the love of her life, but in a stupid muggle accident that had taken place less than two months after the battle.

She had found herself unable to remain there in the hustle and bustle of the rebuilding wizarding world that was still in mourning for those lost. It was too much for her heart to handle. Many of the people she knew mourned for siblings, parents, and friends. She was better able to relate with those who had lost a lover, but they never understood why she stayed with them. Nobody had known, and now, nobody would ever know.

She watched the low clouds press closer and closer to the ground not releasing rain, but instead imposing their ominous darkness on the land like a funeral shroud. It was as though everything had stopped for her. She felt trapped in a world of endless day. She could not sleep at night because of the nightmares that plagued her thoughts. It was much easier to sit by the fire place and read a book, or two, or three... Until she slept. Not because she wanted to, but because she was so physically tired that she could not stay awake any longer.

It hurt her to be there. She wanted to get better and get over it, but she simply could not. It was too much. She needed to mourn for her family, her friends, and most importantly, her lost love, but she needed to do it on her own accord, in her own time.

But that was nearly half a year ago. Five months and twenty-seven days to be specific. Five months and twenty-seven days too long. Hermione seldom thought about anything other than one specific person and how empty her life was without him by her side.

And now, as she watched the landscape of her home and the backdrop of the life she had built for herself, she began to cry. As the tears streamed down her face, the clouds above her head broke as well, unleashing torrents of rain onto the parched ground.

Hermione cried for life, pain, anguish, the loss of innocence, what could have been, and most importantly, the love she had lost. She was so concentrated on finally coming to grips on her feelings that she did not see a strange blur walking towards her in the distance, up the small country drive that led to her house.

She collapsed onto her knees on her front porch, allowing the rain to completely soak her, hoping that it would wash away all the pain as it dripped down her.

She did not even notice as the form got closer and closer to her. She did not even notice as the man stopped in front of her, gazing down at her, until he spoke.

"Hermione...? Love...?" It was so familiar that she almost did not believe that she heard anything at all. Only... this voice was different. No. It was the same low baritone voice, but it was raspier, and it nearly cracked as though he had a really horrible sore throat. But he never got sick... How was this possible? Hermione looked up, not expecting to see anybody there (her mind had played worse tricks on her in the past), and instead looked up into deep black eyes that she had last seen frozen in death as their master laid, cold, on the floor of the shrieking shack.

"Impossible..." Hermione was absolutely at a loss for words.

"Nothing in impossible if you believe in it enough, love," he replied, lifting her off the saturated ground.

"How...? You were... dead. I felt you, there was no pulse?" She gaped up at the man who loomed over her even when she was standing up.

"Time can lose memories, but the song of love stays forever strong and will never die. I told you that we would never lose each other, Hermione." He hugged her wet form to his warm dry body. She looked up at him admiring the man she had fallen in love with. He looked younger, well rested, and his hair was not as greasy as it always looked in the past.

"Severus," she savored the flavor of his name on her lips just in case this was all a dream, "I need you. Forever and always."

"Take my hand then, love. Dance in the wind with me." With out a second thought, Hermione took hold of both his hands and watched as two beautiful black wings stretched out behind him. "I need to love you, but I can only love you like this. Come, come away with me."

Without a glance back at her old like Hermione agreed with him, finally stretching out her own honey brown wings. Her hand in his, they flew away to a new life. A life where they would be together. A life where they would never be separated again. A life where they could be happy. Always.

_**o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o**_


End file.
